The Writing of Daniel Kilkelly
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Writing Challenge: Dirt Road Anthem

9/22/2015

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​Since I detest country music so much, a friend of mine challenged me to write one of those song-lyric stories to "Dirt Road Anthem."  I'm actually quite pleased with the result, and the song wasn't half bad either.  Enjoy!

Back in the day, Potts farm was the place to go.  Load the truck up, hit the dirt road.  Jump the barbed wire, spread the word, light the bonfire then call the girls.  Old man Potts died my freshman year of high school, back when we were all excited to find a place to go drink.  He had a couple sons, I heard, but none of them were on good terms with him, so no one took up the mantle.  Wasn’t much of an inheritance anyway.  The soil was closer to sand now than anything, just an extension of the road leading in.

Don’t know why I decided to come back tonight.  This place belonged to a different generation now, the backwash of our town who’d leave the bottles of their fruity drinks broken on the ground when we’d always had the courtesy to keep the place clean.  These kids got the cops called on them for noise complaints and exposed this little slice of heaven to the rest of the town.  Now the boys in blue made regular trips out here to check out the dead farm.
It still had its charm, to be sure.  That dirt road leading up got my heart pumping, thinking of all the times I’d made this trip.  Smoke rolling out the window, an ice cold beer sitting on the console.  Then there was something I’d hoped to forget about.  The last time I was here, the last time I went down this road, she was mine.  It seemed stupid to think that way; she hadn’t been mine for fourteen years.  But this drive up always got me a little shaky.  Not because I was excited to get drunk, or see the friends who’d driven an hour just to join the bonfire.  It was because she and I would always find a chance to sneak off to the barn, and climb up to the second level.  We’d stashed some blankets up there in the corner where it was cozy.

​She’d always look me in the eye, then move some dirty blonde locks of hair behind her ears.  She had cute ears, the kind that stuck out a bit, perfect to hold all that hair.  And her eyes were arresting and icy, deep blue with a ring of silver around the pupil.  My girl frowned a lot.  She said it was just her normal face, that she wasn’t particularly upset about anything even though I knew she had plenty to be upset about.  There were even frown lines on her cheeks.  Then she’d smile, and it was the most fantastic sight, because there were too few of those from her.  The way her eyes lit up, and those dimples that formed next to her eyes made me feel like I was making her life worth living.  Then she’d take off my cowboy hat, always take off my hat, and hang it on that wooden peg on the wall nearby.  We’d sit in our little corner of the world and kiss and smile.

I still had that hat.  Wore it almost every day.  It was smooth black leather, although there were a few cracks here and there where it curved up on the sides.  When I was wearing it, I looked a lot like my younger self.  But when I took it off, my trimmed beard and silver earring and scowl seemed so much more apparent.  I wasn’t the same guy anymore.  If I was, there’d be a couple beers in the passenger seat instead of a flask full of whiskey.

Memory lane up in the headlights has got me reminiscing on them good times.  Why the hell did I come out here?

I parked in my usual spot, with the bed of my truck facing the fire pit.  Then I hopped out of the truck and looked around.  The place felt odd in the daylight, like a photograph in sepia.  The only colors that belonged in here were the yellow of the fire and the blue in her eyes.  I remembered exactly where the other three trucks would park in a half circle around the bonfire.  Jeremy would pull out that leaky red cooler full of beers.  We always made fun of Allen for being a boy scout, but didn’t complain when he started a fire in less than a minute.

The moment didn’t quite feel right, so I grabbed that flask and took a swig.  As soon as the burning started in my throat, I could see it all.  The ghosts of the past came right down that dirt road and joined me here.  Maybe I was crazy.  My plan sure was.  I didn’t really care right now.

My girl was here again.  All in black and white, sure, just to remind me that none of this was real.  It was the last night we’d come here, before half of them went off to college and the rest got married.  I remembered watching her all night, in that flowy red dress she’d been wearing when I first met her and my flannel shirt right on top.  She sat on the end of my truck, legs crossed, watching the party and smiling on occasion.  Never really smoked or drank.  She told me once that I was the only reason she came here.

I reached into my pocket, and found that little box I’d kept for fourteen years.  It wasn’t anything expensive.  I meant to get a job and get her something better, something with a little more shine.  But for now, it was a ring from the thrift store with a pearl right on top.

She wasn’t smiling that night.  Usually I got one or two out of her by the time it got dark, but she didn’t seem to be having a good time.  That was why I didn’t go through with it.  This time I would though.

“Victoria?” I said to her.  She always had too good a name for this hick town.  Everything about her was too good for this place.  She turned to look at me, cracked half a smile, and then patted the seat next to her.  I took it, and then sucked in a deep breath. “Do I make you happy?”

“What?” She said. “Of course you do.  You make me happier than anyone else in my life.” She reached her hand across to mine, entwined our fingers together.  I could feel her pulse, warm and constant. “It’s the little things you do.  The notes, and the gifts, and the calls just to say good morning and goodnight.  Those make my day.”

“I decided a long time ago that I wouldn’t propose to you unless I knew I could make you smile every day for the rest of our lives,” I said, fiddling with the box in my pocket.  She squeezed my hand once.

“You know I’d say yes.”

“I know.  That’s not what I’m worried about.” I frowned, and looked into her eyes. “Will I really be able to make you smile?  Or is there someone else who can make you happier?”

Victoria blinked a few times.  Then she slapped me.  Just a tiny little tap on the cheek, harmless, but the meaning was all the same.  My ears got hot with blood.

“I don’t want to hear that from you.  You’re wonderful.  You’re all I need.  So stop with all that nonsense and just ask me already.”

I didn’t ask her the first time around.  That was where I stopped.  But I had to see what would happen.  So I pulled out that box, and revealed my second rate ring to her.  If I’d known how much that one little action would light up her eyes, make her smile like I’d never seen, then we would be the ones getting married right now.

Another car pulled up to the farm.  The headlights washed over me, sitting there alone proposing to nothing.  I stuck the ring back into my pocket, and hopped off my truck.  It was a police car.  A man got out, and I figured I knew who he was in a town as small as this.  All this small town he said, she said, ain’t it funny how rumors spread.  Victoria getting married to the police officer.  He headed on over, running a hand across his shaved head.  His shoulders kinda slumped when he walked.  I didn’t understand the appeal.

“Excuse me.  Don’t mean to bother you, but this is private property.” He shrugged his shoulders once.

“Sorry.  I’ll clear out.”

The man nodded, and frowned. “Do I know you?”

“No.  You don’t.” I got back in my car, and started the engine.  I’d never met the guy before, but I’d seen them together.  In a town this small, there was no avoiding it.  And as much as I wanted to go back and fix things, to make that proposal after all, I knew it wasn’t right.  Because I’d never seen Victoria so happy as she was now.
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    Prose:

    • The Soul in the Machine
    • The Cigar Box Story​
    • Run Away (Little Girl)
    • The Christmas Trap
    • Dine and Dash
    • Dirt Road Anthem
    • Urchins of Cinnibar
    • Tips

    Poetry:

    • Cigar Box Baby
    • Recipe For Spoiled-Rotten Kids
    • The Earth's Cellar Door

    Dragon Goes to College:

    • Part 1
    • Part 2
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